


Barduil Week Collection

by LittleLynn



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Animals, Cultural Differences, Death, Dreams/Nightmares, M/M, Silly AU/Crack fic, Wardrobe Menace, my barduil week collection!, on holiday, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-06 19:56:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4234590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/pseuds/LittleLynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The daily themes (chapters will correspond):</p><p>June 29th – On holiday</p><p>June 30th – Cultural differences</p><p>July 1st – Dreams/Nightmares</p><p>July 2nd – Animals</p><p>July 3rd – Death</p><p>July 4th – Silly AU/Crack fic</p><p>July 5th – Proposal </p><p>July 6th Bonus Day (in memory of Christopher Lee) - Wardrobe Menace</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On Holiday

 

“Um, Thran?” Bard called through the house as he wandered into their bedroom (well, Bard’s because they were in Dale at the moment, but honestly by now it was well and truly ‘theirs’) and then slowly backed out again.

“Yes?” Thranduil answered, somehow managing to make his voice carry all the way through the house without seeming to even raise his voice.

“Why does it look like Orc’s have raided our bedroom?” Bard asked, walking downstairs and finding the Elvenking in the kitchen following Tilda’s instructions and making her a snack.

“I was packing.” Thranduil replied matter-of-factly as he reached down the flour for Tilda.

“And that made the bedroom look like complete chaos because…?” Bard wondered aloud, placing an affectionate kiss on his cheek.

“I didn’t know what I wanted to take.” Thranduil told him as he stirred up the mix in the bowl, Bard was fairly sure he was making her some kind of elvish treat.

“What did you decide on?” Bard asked, kissing a smiling Tilda on the head in greeting.

“All of it.” Thranduil answered and that couldn’t possibly be right because Thranduil had an _obscene_ amount of clothes stored here in Dale (and the number back in Mirkwood was just indecent).

“You realise we’re only going for a little while right.” Bard laughed, unable to stop smiling at the ridiculous and perfect elf stood in his kitchen.

“Of course. But how am I supposed to know what I want to wear?” Thranduil answered, apparently this justified him taking his entire wardrobe on their trip to Rivendell (something which was most definitely _not_ going to happen).   

“Just take a selection.” Bard reasoned, something that was probably obvious to anyone who wasn’t an Elvenking.

“But which ones!” Thranduil protested, throwing some kind of elvish sugar into the mixing bowl.

“Honestly you’d think you’ve never packed a bag before.” Bard laughed, grabbing himself an apple.

“I haven’t.” Thranduil replied completely casually.

“…What? I know you’re a recluse but you must have to go away occasionally.” Bard replied, he didn’t pack to come to Dale anymore, he had over the last couple of years managed to move half of his wardrobe to Dale.

“Of course, but other people always packed for me.” Thranduil explained, whipping the mix of ingredients together.

“I feel like I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I’m a king.” Thranduil replied as if that explained it, and Bard supposed it did, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tease.

“So am I.” Bard grinned.

“Yes but that is a far more recent development, and one I am very glad of.” Thranduil answered with a little mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Why, would you not love me if I was still just a bargeman?” Bard asked, knowing it wasn’t true.

“Obviously I would still love you if you were a bargeman, but I probably would not have met you. I have already berated myself enough for not feeling the need to meet my barrel collector for all those years.” Thranduil replied and Bard couldn’t help but kiss him, he’d never get tired of those soft lips against his.

“Da, stop distracting ada from making my biscuits.” Tilda interrupted, shoving at his shoulder.

“Sorry chicken.” Bard grinned, bopping her on the nose as Thranduil went back to baking. “You know, you’ve always said you don’t know how to cook.” Bard added with a raised eyebrow at Thranduil.

“I don’t know how to cook, I do know how to bake the odd treat though.” Thranduil explained. “I learnt when Legolas’ mother died, he always liked sweets, it helped sometimes, even though they were never as good as when his mother baked them.”

“How come you’ve never made them before?” Bard asked, they’d been together for a couple of years now after all.

“I have.” Thranduil said and that couldn’t be right, unless Bard was losing his memory.

“Have you?”

“Yes, but our collective children have usually gobbled them all up before either of us could get a look in.” Thranduil explained fondly, Tilda was giggling guiltily.

“Legolas eats the most of them when he’s here!” Tilda defended herself.

“Yes, but he’s not always here is he.” Bard pointed out and Tilda looked even guiltier, she probably ate half of them herself every time, Bard grinned and ruffled her hair.   

“Do you want to try some?” Thranduil asked as he spread the mixture on to a tray and placed it into their little oven.

“When will they be cooked?” Bard asked looking forward to it, they already smelt amazing.

“In an hour or so, but I meant you can scrape the bowl.” Thranduil grinned, getting them all a spoon and scraping some of the leftover mix out.

“Isn’t this bad for you?” Bard inquired, but he didn’t stop Tilda excitedly scraping some mix out.

“This risk is far outweighed by the taste. Besides, elvish medicine, you’ll be fine.” Thranduil waved him off, and Bard knew he would never let Tilda do anything that could actually be considered dangerous, so Bard shrugged and tried some.

It was delicious.

Bard could hear his other two kids coming before he saw them, feet thundering down the stairs.

“Can I small ada’s biscuits?” Came Sigrid’s voice as her and her brother appeared in the kitchen.

“Hey! You started without us!” Bain complained as he darted towards the draw to grab himself and Sigrid a spoon to join in.

“I’m making up for missing out all the other times.” Bard claimed, and he really had been missing out.

They really were getting desperate with the scraping now, there hadn’t been too much in there to start with.

It became even harder when the front door opened and Legolas and Tauriel made a beeline for the bowl.

“Do you have a sixth sense for this stuff honestly Legolas.” Thranduil laughed.

“Just impeccable timing.” Legolas replied, he and Tauriel both managing to get some scrapings.

Bard couldn’t help but smile as his whole family leaning around his kitchen table, he had never thought he would manage to be quite this happy again, but here he was.

By this point Tauriel was an honorary member of the family. After everything that had happened with the dwarves she had needed someone and Bard’s kids had decided to be that someone. Bard was glad, he wouldn’t be without her these days, she was an invaluable part of Dale, lived just across the plaza, she was doing okay, the kids were good at making her smile.

“When are you guys leaving?” Sigrid asked, giving up on the thoroughly scraped bowl.

“After lunch.” Bard answered, although if he’d be able to finish Thranduil’s packing by then was another question. “And you’re all going to behave for Legolas and Tauriel.” He added in his best stern da voice (which was crap).

Sigrid rolled her eyes, they really didn’t need Legolas and Tauriel to look after them, but it made Bard feel better, and Tauriel would have probably just ended up there by demand of Tilda anyway. And Legolas was always loathe to miss out on a chance to spoil them completely rotten, Bard had no doubt they were going to have a great time.

He also had no doubt that he and Thranduil were going to have a very memorable time in Rivendell. Elrond had invited them for a celebration (probably as a result of not being invited to the actual wedding, but to be fair, they really had only invited the kids, the rest of Mirkwood and Dale had invited themselves).

“What’s for lunch?” Bain asked, one track mind as always.

“Thranduil’s home made biscuits by the looks of things.” Bard laughed, Thranduil had a rather smug smile on.

Bard and Thranduil escaped upstairs to try and sort out Thranduil’s mess in the bedroom, which they sort of managed, although Thranduil was still taking far too much stuff with him. Oh well, hopefully Elrond had given them a room with a large closet. Actually, of course he had, he knew what Thranduil was like.   

And they did have the biscuits for lunch, although Legolas had thought ahead and also made some sandwiches as there were never going to be enough biscuits to fill them all up (they were demolished in a matter of seconds). And before they knew it they were being packed away onto horses and their very small entourage (considering the size of the entourage they usually had, Feren and Percy had teamed up (despite really not liking each other) and banned them from leaving without an escort.

So they were travelling with a small guard (which felt pretty unnecessary given that Bard had seen Thranduil fight) and naturally Thranduil was using the guard to transport his massive amount of bags with them.

It was a long ride, but the days passed quickly with Thranduil next to him, making him laugh throughout the day and curling up together in their tent over the nights (a tent with so many pillows and blankets lining the floor that it was more like a nest).

“So what is it mortals call this kind of holiday?” Thranduil asked one night, head pillowed on Bard’s chest and Bard running his fingers through his silky hair.

“A honeymoon.” Bard smiled, of course it was usually straight after the wedding not a couple of months, but they were busy people and would take what they could get as far as holidays went (they were both getting better at delegating to make time for each other).

“And what usually happens on a honeymoon?” Thranduil asked, tracing patterns on Bard’s chest.

“We relax, have a free pass to act like love sick idiots, have lots of wild sex and just generally luxuriate in each other.” Bard answered, grinning away, they were only a couple more days from Rivendell.

“I think I like this particular tradition of men.” Thranduil replied, voice brimming with mischief and his hands running towards even more mischief as they travelled lower, Bard caught his hand, they were only in a tent and he’d never be able to look anyone with them in the eye again.

“Maybe if you were quieter.” Bard grinned and Thranduil pouted. “I’ll make it up to you when we get there.” Bard promised and that dangerous little twinkle was back in Thranduil’s eyes.

“I look forward to it.” He purred into Bard’s ear (which wasn’t fair at all).

They fell asleep wrapped up in each other, sleepily exchanging kisses.

The ride to Rivendell had been about as good as they could possibly hope for, the weather had been good for ridding and they hadn’t bumped into anything that wasn’t easily handled.

When they arrived Elrond greeted them and dined with them, along with an elf called Lindir who seemed to technically be an assistant or minstrel but seemed far more like Elrond’s companion to Bard.

Thranduil pleaded tiredness as the conversation wore on into the evening and Bard rolled his eyes because he knew that was code for bored and followed him back to their spacious and luxurious room thankfully quite a long way away from anyone else’s room (thankfully because Bard was busy making it up to Thranduil and he really was very loud, Bard found it rather flattering).

Thranduil indulged Bard during the day, exploring Imladris with him despite knowing it well himself, going swimming with him in the warm waters of the natural pools and going on long walks, looking through all the history documented there.

Thranduil was truly living up to the love sick idiot part, packing them picnics and wine and smiling that soft little smile of his almost constantly.

The elves of Rivendell were probably very bored of catching them kissing by now.

(Bard didn’t care, he was on his honeymoon, they would just have to put up with it).

They lounged around in the mornings, having the lazy starts Thranduil loved so much (and Bard was hardly complaining) and the days were spent in increasingly soppy situations, they ate lunch together and sometimes joined Elrond for dinner but usually dined alone under the stars, sometimes they danced, sometimes they just lost themselves in each other.

And the evenings were spent engaging happily and enthusiastically in many _many_ rounds of wild sex.

(Really Thranduil was _exhausting_ in the _best_ ways).

It was nice not to have to worry about children being in the house.

But eventually they had to leave and despite the fact that they both missed their children they were still loathe to end their holiday. The journey back was just as smooth as the one there.

“I hope you don’t expect me to stop acting like a love sick moron.” Bard had said on the way home, in their tent in the nest of pillows and blankets, wrapped in each other arms and murmured between kisses.

“Certainly not, I definitely don’t ever plan to.” Thranduil replied, so warm and so simple.

“Me neither, I love you far too much for that.” Bard agreed, pressing another kiss to his lips.

“I love you too.” Thranduil smiled, burrowing into his arms like he never wanted to leave (which was fine by Bard).   

When they got home they were greeted by Tilda on a sugar high, Legolas and Sigrid snickering at her dashing around, dragging her exhausted returning fathers with her, and Tauriel and Bain eating a sandwich and watching with very amused expressions.

They ended up going on a lot of honeymoons, Bard tried to explain that that really wasn’t the idea of a honeymoon. Thranduil didn’t care. Neither did Bard. 

 


	2. Cultural Differences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times Bard and Thranduil discovered cultrual differences, and one time they didn’t

 

Despite their surprising number of similarities, there were also a great deal of differences between Bard and Thranduil.

Bard blamed their vastly different cultures, there were always going to be things that they just did differently, it was testament to how they felt about each other that none of this ever came between them, at least for long, they always got used to it in the end.

Most of the time it was fairly amusing, at least in hindsight. They always found a way to make it work. 

The first time they encountered a slight difference was actually the first time they met. Back at the battle, Thranduil arrived with his aid, saving all the survivors from Laketown and really Bard hadn’t stood a chance.

Thranduil had invited him to dine with him that evening in his makeshift war tent that was more luxurious than any house Bard had ever been in.

Bard had been trying not to stare too much (not at the tent but the beautiful elf sitting in it) and later Thranduil assured him that he had failed, but what he hadn’t failed to notice was something rather odd about the meal.

It was still delicious of course, as if Thranduil would deign to eat something that wasn’t, but there wasn’t a scrap of meat on it, not a single piece.

Fish had been the main staple of the Laketown diet (which was utterly unsurprising), but they had also occasionally had pig or other animals, but there was always some form of meat or fish.

And lovely as vegetables were they still needed something a tad more substantial, Thranduil seemed to subsist on lettuce and air.

After the battle, when everything seemed but hopeful and hopeless at the same time, Bard and Thranduil continued to dine together, they seemed to have some kind of understanding or connection, Bard couldn’t explain it, but he liked it, he liked it a lot.

He liked the Elvenking a lot, and it appeared to be mutual.

On the third night in a row of dining with (and drooling over) Thranduil, Bard decided to finally ask. Thranduil had for some reason been treating Bard as an equal, a friend, which was strange because to everyone else he seemed downright cold.

But not Bard, never Bard.

Well, or the kids. That had melted Bard’s heart extremely quickly.

Anyway, Thranduil treated him like a friend, possibly (hopefully) even more than a friend, but that could just be wishful thinking, so Bard didn’t think anything of asking about the food.

“Thranduil?” Bard started as he took another few leaves of lettuce. 

“Yes Bard?” Thranduil replied, sipping at his wine and smiling at Bard.

“I’ve been wondering, how come there is never any meat in the dinners or on your wagons? It’s fine if you cannot spare it, you’re already far too generous, I’m just curious.”  Bard asked, taking another bite of his meal.

“…I’m sorry?” Thranduil queried, confusion muddying his features.

“Meat, you never seem to have any.” Bard clarified (although he wasn’t sure why it needed clarification really).

“Why on earth would we?” Thranduil enquired until the confusion turned to revulsion rather suddenly and he continued. “Wait, you can’t mean that you eat it.”

“Well, yeah, of course we do.” Bard responded, his turned to be confused, Thranduil was up and out of his chair (throne? Thranduil made everything seem like a throne) like a shot, staring at Bard with a horrified look on his face.

“How could you! I though only dwarves were involved in that vile practice! How could you!” Thranduil repeated, he wasn’t shouting, somehow that made it worse, even if Bard wasn’t entirely clear what the problem was.

“Um, I don’t understand? It’s a staple of out diet, people who can’t get at it tend to end up malnourished and ill, we need it. Don’t you?” Bard explained, getting the distinct feeling that no, they did not eat it at all.

“No of course not! We would never eat meat, we could never harm an animal, it is abhorrent to us.” Thranduil told him, still clearly disturbed, but definitely calming down a little.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.” Bard responded. “But you see, whilst we don’t need it every day to survive, mortals do need it regularly to stay healthy, we can’t really help it.” Bard finished a little sheepishly, he hadn’t meant to offend Thranduil as much as he evidently had.

“How can you do it?” Thranduil asked, back to confusion, albeit a moderately horrified confusion, Bard assumed he was talking about taking the life of an animal.

“Well, I guess the necessity of it helps, but we’re not nearly as connected to animals and nature as elves are either. Like I said, we just kind of need it at least some times.” Bard tried to explain, hoping Thranduil understood.

Thranduil looked as if he was having some kind of internal fight with himself and Bard was getting increasingly worried that their little dinners would be over (something which he definitely did not want to happen ever).

“Are we, um, okay?” Bard asked tentatively. “I really don’t want anything like this to come between us, I miss you too much already.” Bard finished, trying to make it sound light and jovial, but his feelings that were already starting to bloom for Thranduil gave them accidental weight.

“Yes. I think I would rather hate to lose you as well, and I suppose it isn’t your fault that you require it occasionally.” Thraduil reasoned, before continuing in a more firm voice that relived Bard no end. “I won’t let it damage our friendship, you already mean far too much to me.”

“I am glad.” Bard smiled softly. 

“Although I do have one request.” Thranduil started.

“Anything.” Bard answered, still smiling, probably meaning that far more than he should at this point.

“Please don’t ever eat meat in front of me.”

“It’s a promise.” Bard answered sincerely, Thranduil smiled and before he knew it there was a gentle kiss being pressed against his cheek.

And that had been that.

 

The second time they had had to deal with differences caused by their vastly different cultures had been a little while later. Thranduil and the remaining elves were finally leaving Dale, they had spent months helping get the city back on its feet so that the winter wouldn’t immediately wipe them out, but now Thranduil really did need to get back to his own realm.

Since that night with the realisation that elves most definitely did not eat meat, he and Thranduil had tentatively started to become something to each other. They spent most of their time either working around Dale or in the small house Bard had claimed with his children, who thankfully had taken a real shine to the Elvenking, and he to them.

But no matter how much Thranduil might want to stay and Bard might want him to stay, he really did need to leave and see to his own realm. The thing between them was so new and so undefined, Bard had no idea how elven relationships worked, that Bard was infinitely relieved when Thranduil spoke to him before mounting his horse for the journey back to the Woodland Realm.

“I hope I will be able to see you soon.” Thranduil asked far more tentatively than anything else he had ever said, Bard smiled, maybe he wasn’t so alone in this after all.

“I certainly hope I will see you very soon.” Bard told him, quiet and sincere before pulling the Elvenking into a deep and lingering kiss.

“Then I will see you very soon.” Thranduil reassured, before stealing another kiss and letting Bard help him up onto the horse even though he really didn’t need help.

Bard watched him ride away, already looking forward to his next visit. Bard wondered when he would come, they had said very soon, so maybe just a month or so? Maybe even less.

Bard smiled to himself, already making loose plans in his head, he’d try to free himself up, take Thranduil out to some of the nice places he knew for a picnic, or as it was likely to still be freezing maybe just for a ride. He would think of something, make sure it is perfect.

The kids were also looking forward to the return of Thranduil, he had taken to spoiling them rotten and braiding their hair. It was undoubtedly a large part of the reason Bard could feel himself falling at a slightly alarming rate.

And so he waited for Thranduil’s return, and waited, and waited, and waited. A month had long past and Bard had not heard a word from Thranduil, two months, three, four, five. And when six rolled around Bard really started to panic.

_Surely_ if something had happened to Thranduil someone would have told him? But then the only elf they had seen in those six months was Tauriel and she hadn’t been back to the Woodland Realm since the battle.

Wouldn’t he be told as a neighbouring king if not as someone who had a budding relationship with the Elvenking?

But what if Thranduil was just gravely ill, or hurt, or lost, what if he had never made it back, what if a lingering orc pack had caught him, what if the Spiders had overrun his halls, what if what if what if.

Every scenario Bard came up with was worse than the last, he couldn’t sleep or keep food down, worrying so much it was stopping him being able to function.

He was on the back of a horse charging towards Mirkwood before anyone could stop him, Percy and Hilda promising to look after his children, but he had to get to Mirkwood.

He knew the woods were dangerous, especially alone and through the night, but Bard didn’t stop riding. He had some near misses with a couple of packs of spiders but he pressed on, kept going despite the fact he was exhausted and starving and hurt.

He was pretty sure he reached Thranduil’s halls in record time, following the river up until he found the great gates.

He hammered on the door and pushed past the surprised guard who had to chase to keep up with him, running through the halls. He didn’t even really know where he was going.

“My lord Bard, we were not expecting you! You look hurt. Please, stop we can help.” The elf tried, but Bard barely heard him, pushing through doors until he finally ended up in some kind of grand dining room.

With a large table that a perfectly fine looking Thranduil was sat at, enjoying his supper.

“Bard?” Thranduil asked, confused but visibly happy to see him, a smile taking over his face, that was until he saw how scratched up Bard was and it immediately turned to concern.

Bard didn’t reply, just rushed forward and started checking Thranduil over, something had to be wrong.

“What on adra is wrong?” Thranduil inquired. “Are you okay? You’re hurt! Bard what has happened? Let us help you, why are you here?”   

Bard processed Thranduil’s litany of questions and could only think of one thing to say.

“You said ‘see you soon’, actually you said ‘I will see you _very_ soon’.”

“Yes?” Thranduil looked confused.

“And then you disappeared, I thought something had happened! I thought you might be dead! I was worried sick.” Bard exclaimed.

“Bard honestly, you’re acting like it’s been an age when it’s barely been two seasons.” Thranduil responded, puzzlement still colouring his tone. “Although I must admit I have missed you an awful lot even in that short time.”

“Short time?” Bard repeated in slight disbelief. “Thran, it’s been six months.”

“Yes?” Thranduil confirmed, so he wasn’t unaware of the time then.

“That is a very long time! When you said very soon I thought I would see you again within a month.” Bard pointed out.

“Bard I am confused, six months is a very short while indeed, although I missed you very much I feel like I saw you only a few days ago.” Thranduil replied, his brow furrowed in confusion, and that was when Bad realised what was happening here. 

“I think I see our problem.” Bard said, taking Thranduil’s hand and linking their fingers.

“Oh?” Thranduil queried curiously, rubbing his thumb gently over the back of Bard’s hand.

“To you six months is nothing, barely a blink, but to me, men and mortals in general, it’s a very long time. I mean, if we’re being _very_ optimistic I will live to eighty, I’m already thirty eight. So that six months is a rather long time for me.” Bard explained, trailing off quietly to the end, he had not realised what and unpleasant topic this was until he started.

God they had such a short time together in mortal terms, let alone elven ones.

This was far harder than he had anticipated.

Thranduil stared at him for a few moments, unmoving, unblinking.

“You will only live for forty more years?” He stated, like he didn’t quite believe it.

“Approximately, but that is probably being generous.” Bard admitted, hating the look Thranduil was getting on his face, it was like panic.

“I knew that. I know how long mortals live for. But for some reason that didn’t translate, I don’t know why. We, elves, don’t really notice time like you do, we don’t – Valar, only forty years.” Thranduil broke off and breathed the last part, for a second Bard thought Thranduil was going to cut his losses and leave while it wouldn’t cause too much hurt, but he didn’t, instead he shot up and kissed Bard hard and deep, it was desperate.

“Thran?” Bard asked as he was let up for air, hands squeezing his hips reassuringly.

“I am sorry for worrying you. And I promise I will not waste another second of our time.” Thranduil said, voice so firm and determined and filled with such a colour of desperation that Bard broke a little.

Bard did not go back to Dale alone, time had been redefined for Thranduil. Forever for Bard, hardly a blink in Thranduil’s life. It wasn’t fair.

After Bard had brought it to Thranduil’s attention just how little time they had together, Thranduil barely left his side. ‘Very soon’ became only a few days, I he had to be away for longer, Bard and the kids usually went with him.

Bard wasn’t sure if it made him happy or sad.

But Thranduil made him happy, Bard made Thranduil happy. They chose to be happy while they could.

 

The next time Bard discovered a difference between them left him with a rather large bruise.

They had been sharing a bed for a little while, they hadn’t progressed past kissing, but Thranduil slept far better in Bard’s arms he was so loathe to be parted from him for even a second these days, and it wasn’t like Bard minded, having Thranduil asleep in his arms was one of his favourite things.

However, despite sharing a bed for a little while, there was something Bard had somehow never noticed, and that was that apparently elves slept with their eyes open.

Bard was yawning and stretching and just generally waking up, and when he opened his eyes he was met by two blue eyes he knew very well glazed over and staring blankly.

It was quite a shock.

Bard yelped and fell backward out the bed (thus the bruise).

Which shocked Thranduil out of sleep fairly quickly as well.

“Hu? What? Bard are you okay.” Thranduil mumbled sleepily then realised what had happened and woke up completely, rushing down beside Bard on the floor.

“You sleep with your eyes open.” Bard pointed out, rubbing at the bump on his head.

“Yes?” Thranduil asked quizzically.

“It shocked me, that’s all. Bit of a fright.” Bard grinned, letting Thranduil help him off the floor and back into their soft bed.

“Why did it give you a fright?” Thranduil inquired, slipping in next to Bard and looping an arm around his waist, like he was anchoring him to the bed.

“We sleep with our eyes closed.” Bard replied simply, by this point he was rather used to them finding funny little difference between themselves.

“Really? That is very strange.” Thranduil commented, pillowing his head on Bard’s chest and tracing patterns with his fingers.

“Well from my perspective sleeping with your eyes open is weird.” Bard pointed out, toying with Thranduil’s silvery hair.

“And terrifying to behold apparently.” He teased, smirking up at Bard before pressing a kiss to his chest and settling back down. “But I take your point, maybe I should wear an eye mask when I sleep.” Thranduil suggested, and really Bard was touched that he would.

“Nah, I’ll get used to it.” Bard grinned, they always did get used to their differences.

“Good, but if you wake me up for it again I will have my revenge.” Thranduil stated, mischief lacing his tone and Bard did not doubt it, sleep seemed by far Thranduil’s favourite thing, especially in the mornings.

“Is being a big lazy cat an elven thing or a Thranduil thing?” Bard snorted, usually he would be up already, but Thranduil seemed set on going back to sleep, and he was _really_ bad at denying him.

“It’s a me thing.” Thranduil mumbled and Valar he already sounded half asleep. Bard smiled softly, they could doze for a few more hours.

When they woke up again Bard managed not to scream like a twelve year old when he was greeted again by Thranduil’s glazed open eyes.

 

The next time they ran into a difference was a biggie. Possibly _the_ biggie. But it was also in many ways the easiest one to solve, at least in their opinion.

They had been together for a few years and there was one thing Bard could not stop thinking about, and that was marrying Thranduil. He had no idea what the elvish customs where, no idea if it was allowed, if you could just marry another king, if elves even got married in the same way mortals did.

What he did know was that he wanted to marry Thranduil.

So if he would have him, that was exactly what Bard intended to do, and apparently he wasn’t the only one with this thought.

Bard had had a ring forged and made, carving in intricate and entwined branches and arrows into the metalwork himself. He planned to pull out all the stops; starlight, wine, candles, Thranduil’s favourite flowers, strawberries, down on one knee, the whole nine yards.

It was going to be perfect.

And it would have been, if Thranduil hadn’t beaten him to it…sort of. 

Bard was halfway through hand feeding Thranduil a few strawberries when Bard started to notice something. Thranduil was taking the opportunity to lick at Bard’s fingers in an obscene way as he was fed strawberries, and while the hungry gaze Thranduil fixed him with was hardly anything new, what was new, was the actual intent Bard felt behind it.

Despite Thranduil’s ever lecherous looks, they had never done more than kiss and cuddle. Bard hardly minded, as much as he loved sex he loved Thranduil far more, he would happily go without if it meant he could have Thranduil, that had never been an issue for him.

And it had confused him, because from Thranduil’s appreciative gaze Bard was sure that Thranduil wanted it, but he also knew that if Thranduil wanted it he would have said so by now because he was Thranduil. So Bard was a little befuddled but ultimately quite happy to roll with it, he wanted Thranduil, everything else would just be a perk.

So it seemed a little odd that for the first time, Thranduil seemed to have a little more intent behind his hungry looks which probably explained the way one of Bard’s fingers had just been sucked into that plush mouth and had sent all of Bard’s blood rushing southwards.

“Thran?” Bard asked, voice strained as he held himself back from just attacking Thranduil’s mouth and neck, trapping him beneath him and getting under those clothes.

“Mmmm.” Thranduil hummed, letting Bard’s fingers fall from his mouth with a pop that left Bard swallowing thickly before he started talking. “Bard, how much do you know about elvish customs about sex?”

“Um, nothing? I kind of assumed you didn’t want to have sex?” Bard answered, but he was seriously started to revaluate this assumption as Thranduil was sneaking a hand under Bard’s tunic and dragging across his abs.

“I want it.” Thranduil told him, even though Bard had pretty much figured that much out for himself given the way Thranduil’s mouth had started sucking and licking at his neck and his hand was dancing low on his stomach. “Wanted it for a while, possibly since I first saw you, you are a _very_ attractive man.”

“So how come you never…?” Bard asked, wondering why it was only two and a half years later that Thranduil finally seemed to have decided to do something about it.

“As we keep discovering my love, elves and men have very different customs. While sex can mean very little to men, it is everything to us.” Thranduil explained.

“With you, it would be everything to me as well.” Bard smiled, tilting Thranduil’s chin up to meet him in a kiss.

“That is very sweet my dragonslayer, but not quite what I mean.” Thranduil kissed Bard again before explaining further. “For elves, sex forms a bond between souls. To us, sex is matrimony, stronger even.” Thranduil explained, all the while his fingers skated lower, toying with the waistband of his trousers. “So, do you want to…?”

It took a moment for the penny to drop.

Thranduil was asking to have sex, he was essentially asking Bard to get elven married.

The bastard just beat him to it.

“Of course I want to.” Bard smiled, kissing Thranduil deep and long. “Both the marriage and the sex that is, yes to both of them.” Bard clarified, making Thranduil laugh lightly.

“In which case…” Thranduil trailed off, his fingers making their way below Bard’s waistband and towards _very_ interested parts of him.

“Wait.” Bard halted Thranduil, catching his hand and getting a confused look from the elf. “There was actually something I was planning to ask you.”

“Oh?” Thranduil enquired and Bard drew the ring box out of his pocket and passed it to Thranduil, somehow the fact that they had already decided to get married the eleven way, didn’t actually make this much less daunting.

Bard bit his lip in anticipation as Thranduil delicately took the box and opened it, his breath catching as he saw the ring.

“Oh Bard it is beautiful.” Thranduil breathed, staring in awe at the ring even though he owned far finer jewellery. “You did the carvings yourself didn’t you?”  

“How do you know?” Bard asked, unable to keep the smile off of his face.

“I just do.” Thranduil replied, pressing a kiss to Bard’s lips.

“So, will you?” Bard nudged gently, still needing to hear an answer, even though he was fairly sure he knew what it was going to be.

“Will I what?” Thranduil asked, looking searchingly at Thranduil, and Bard could see their problem again, Thranduil had no idea what the giving of a ring like this meant among the race of men.

“Thranduil, how much to you know about men and their marriage customs?” Bard queried with a soft smile.

“Nothing.” Thranduil said, but he was smiling so Bard would bet he had figured it out.

“Well, it is traditional to ask with the presentation of a ring.” Bard explained, the smile on Thranduil’s face was almost overwhelming.

“Yes, I will marry you.” Thranduil answered softly, smiles almost breaking their faces as Bard slipping the ring on Thranduil’s ring finger (the ring finger for men anyway). “Any other marriage traditions I should know about?”

“Well, it is traditional to wait to have sex until the wedding night.” Bard told him, it didn’t really matter, there were no virginities to be protected or unwanted pregnancies to be had here, but as much as Bard wanted it, he felt it might be nice to wait a little longer.

“So you’re saying we could get married twice in one day?” Thranduil said, grinning at Bard.

“I am certainly suggesting it.” Bard confirmed, running his fingers through Thranduil’s hair.

“First your way, then mine?” Thranduil continued, still grinning away, Bard was fairly certain he liked the idea.

“Then your way many many many times.” Bard teased and Thranduil caught him in a long string of kisses.

And three months later they did get married twice in once day.

They discovered that soul bonds could be formed between and elf and a mortal that night as well, it would seem that some differences could be completely overcome.

 

It was almost another four months after their wedding that they discovered another difference (apart from Bard’s discovery that elves apparently only had hair on their heads, and Thranduil’s that mortals had it in all kinds of places).

Really it was amazing that Bard had never been ill before now, they had known each other for three years at this point.

Bard didn’t really think anything of it when he woke up with a blocked nose, heavy sinuses and a sore throat, it was after all, just a cold, he had had them before and he would have them again. So he got up and started going about his business, doing his best not to wallow because he was certain that only ever made it worse.

Bard was blowing his nose and coughing when Thranduil found him.  

“Bard? Bard!” Thranduil shouted, already panicking, he really was a panicker when it came to his fragile mortal family. “What’s wrong how can I help what can I do?!”

“Thranduil calm down.” Bard told him, but his voice was far croakier than he had anticipated and Thranduil started to panic even more.

“Oh Valar what is wrong! Are you dying? You can’t die Bard, I’m not ready you can’t, I –” Thranduil started babbling and Bard caught him in his arms and tried to calm him down.

“Thran, shhh, its okay I’m fine, it’s only a cold.” Bard reassured, doing his best to soothe his terrified husband.

“What do you mean a cold?” Thranduil asked, pressing his hands gently about Bard’s face like he could make it go away.

“No I have no idea why it is called that either.” Bard agreed, because really, nothing about it was cold, usually it made Bard feeling at bunged up and hot and disgusting.

“But what is it?” Thranduil pushed.

“You can’t be suggesting that you’ve never had the common cold.” Bard laughed (which sounded really weird he was so stuffed up and hurt his throat as well).

“Elves don’t get ill.” Thranduil said and that was totally unfair.

“I’m sorry?” Bard responded, unable to really believe it.

“We don’t get ill. We can’t catch illnesses or inherit diseases.” Thranduil explained. “Honestly Bard you look like death.” He continued, face still clouded with worry.

“Jeez thanks love.” Bard laughed, trying to bat Thranduil’s hands away and failing.

“Bard this is no laughing matter, you look terribly ill. Your eyes are red, your breathing is heavy, you can’t speak properly, your glands are inflamed, I will call the healers. Immediately.” Thranduil decided, but Bard caught his hands as they slipped from his face and held them tight, squeezing them a little.

“Thran, honestly, I’ll be fine, it’s just a common cold.” Bard comforted.

“ _Common?_ ” Thranduil repeated. “ _Common_. You mean this happens a lot?”

“Usually a few times a year, I’ve been lucky I haven’t had one for so long.” Bard reasoned, rubbing Thranduil’s arms, still trying to reassure him.

“That’s horrible! How do you cope!?” Thranduil asked, completely outraged by this perfectly normal thing.

“We just kind of, do.” Bard shrugged. “Usually I’ll make myself some hot soup and just get on with it, it tends to pass within the week.”

“A whole week!” Thranduil exclaimed and Bard remembered when six months hadn’t been considered long at all, but then, if Thranduil was ever ill he would probably be a complete drama queen and a second would feel like a year with a cold for him.

“Yes Thran, and it’s miserable but perfectly easy to cope with.” Bard continued to reassure.

“Fine.” Thranduil grumbled. “But if you aren’t completely fine within a week I will be summoning the healers.”

“Deal.” Bard said, rolling his eyes and kissing Thranduil (who balled up his face is disgust). “Oh be quiet, it’s not like you can catch it.” Bard laughed, going back to his work.

And Thranduil actually managed to deal with it fairly well, he hovered and brought Bard hot soup and tissues, but other than that he managed to keep his cool.

That was until the kids caught it, then he completely lost his shit and Elrond had been dragged all the way out to Mirkwood far faster than should have been possible.

Bard later discovered that Thranduil had already called him over for Bard, ‘just in case’.

Turned out even elvish medicine couldn’t cure the common cold which completely confused and frustrated Elrond and the Mirkwood healers.

The kids quite enjoyed the way Thranduil fussed over them for a week, it made their colds far more bearable, Thranduil definitely caught on to their taking advantage, but he didn’t seem to mind.

 

A number of years later Bard and Thranduil were sat by the lake in midsummer, watching their grandchildren playing in the water and just luxuriating in the sun and each other and how incredibly lucky they had managed to be.

They hands were lazily in Thranduil’s lap as they dozed gently in the heat, only to be awoken by a couple of giggles and two small bodies jumping on them. Bain’s three year old Brand and Sigrid’s little five year old Asta, they were far too cute for their own good.

“Oof.”  Thranduil exclaimed dramatically making Asta giggle just as Bard decided to tickle attack Brand, who was now shrieking happily.

“How can we help you munchkins?” Bard asked, bopping Brand on the nose and ending the tickle assault.

“Legolas told us we should come wake you up!” Asta announced happily, bouncing excitedly on Thranduil’s legs.

“Did he now?” Thranduil said with a raised eyebrow, looking over to find his son giggling away next to a grinning Tauriel.

“Yes! Uncle Leg’as said it was time for cake!” Brand shouted and started tugging on Bard’s hand and Asta on Thranduil’s.

Neither of them could help their smiles as their grandchildren dragged them over to the makeshift table Tauriel and Tilda had built and the large cake that was on it.

“Happy anniversary!!” Their family cheered as they blew out the ten candles on top and kissed.

It had been ten years since they got hitched twice in the same days.

“I’m so proud of us.” Bard said softly into their kisses.

“Me too.” Thranduil agreed.

“We’re dealt with so many differences, it should have been so much more complicated than it ever has been.” Bard smiled, knowing how much they had to overcome, even though it only ever felt like little things at the time.

“It’s because I love you far too much for anything to come between us, always have, right from the start.” Thranduil told him, pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I love you far too much as well.” Bard answered, unable to keep the grin off his face as he knocked Thranduil’s nose with his own affectionately. That was what had held them together, the way that despite their differences, they had always been in sync, right from the very start.

“Grandda, Grandada, can we pretty please have some cake please?” Came Asta’s adorable little voice.

“I think what she means is please stop kissing and cut the cake.” Tilda translated, making Asta and Brand giggle.

“I suppose we can.” Bard sighed, making his whole family laugh and Thranduil steal one last kiss before they both started to cut the cake.

Cake was a universal yes right across cultures and required no adjustment (they even liked the same filling best).

But there was one difference that was not so easily reconciled.

Bard was mortal, Thranduil immortal.

That one got them in the end.

 


	3. Dreams/Nightmares

 

Bard knew how lucky he was to not to get nightmares after everything that happened. All his kids did, he wished he could help them somehow, he felt so useless whenever one of them woke up screaming. All he could do was help them back to sleep, remind that that they were safe.

He wished he could somehow take his children’s nightmares away, what he wouldn’t give to be the one having them instead. He’d be okay, he’d wake up in Thranduil’s arms and he’d know everything was okay.

It was better when Thranduil was around, maybe it was his sensitive hearing, but he always seemed to know just when one of the children was starting to have a nightmare, and he would wake them ever so gently until they fell back into an undisturbed sleep again.

These days Thranduil was with them more often than not, something which Bard was infinitely grateful for, and although it had been a few years since it all happened, the kids’ nightmares were starting to get more and more infrequent.

They would never be gone entirely, Bard knew that, but now instead of almost every night, it was only once or twice a month that the children suffered from them.

Bard wondered sometimes why he never got nightmares, maybe he was just lucky, not that he felt it when his children were screaming in the night. But then Bard never had dreams either. Maybe he was always just too bone tired to have any kind of dream or nightmare.

It made it hard for Bard to sleep at all, always on full alert and listening for any of his children starting to struggle in their sleep, he was always tired these days, he never slept more than an hour or two at a time.

He knew he wasn’t going to be getting any sleep tonight, it had been a while since any of the kids had woken with a nightmare, he felt it sure reassure him, instead it left him on edge. Like it was bound to happen moment because it had been so long.

So he lay there and he listened to the quiet house and the soft breathing of Thranduil tucked away in his arms, making sure his children were fine.

Bard noticed something was off when Thranduil started breathing heavier in his sleep and shifting around slightly. Thranduil did move in his sleep sometimes, but usually it was a soft snuggle, right now he was making these tiny little jerking movements.

But then he settled down for a moment so Bard didn’t think anything of it. Until a minute or so later Thranduil’s breathing grew heavy again, for a moment Bard almost wondered if Thranduil was having some kind of dirty dream, but the other usual…symptoms of that were not present.

Thranduil started shifting in his sleep again, more than before, shaking in Bard’s arms. Small whimpers started and quickly turned into cries and then Bard understood.

Thranduil was having a nightmare.

That had never happened before, at least as far as Bard knew.

It escalated before Bard could gather himself and do anything, Thranduil shaking violently, struggling in Bard’s arms, shouting out loudly, voice breaking in desperation.   

“Thran, Thran wake up.” Bard tried, keeping his voice gentle and holding him tighter, rocking him carefully in an attempt to wake him.

It didn’t work.

“ _Melamin_!” Thranduil yelled still not waking followed by the cry of a name Bard thought was his wife’s.

Then he was screaming, like he was suddenly in unimaginable pain and Bard held him fast, gently shaking his fighting body to try and wake him before changing tactics and stroking a hand through his hair, rubbing at his back trying to soothe him instead.

For a moment it looked like Thranduil was calming down.

Until he started crying Bard’s name instead.

“Bard! _Bard_! A’maelamin! Not again, not you too, I - I _can’t_.” Thranduil cried out brokenly, tears tracking down his face freely.

A face that was shredded by a vicious scar that Bard had never seen before.

He started shouting the children’s names as well, Legolas too, everyone he cared about.

“Thran, wake up sweetheart, I need you to wake up. It’s me, it’s Bard, I’m okay, please wake up. It’s me, I’m okay.” Bard was pressing kisses into Thranduil’s hair, coaxing him out of his sleep and finally Thranduil was starting to wake.

“B-bard.” Thranduil said in a shaky voice, hand’s gripping onto Bard like a vice, eyes opening, one of them was completely clouded over.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” Bard soothed, covering him with kisses, careful to avoid the cruel scar that had appeared.

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.” Bard said firmly, it was not his fault.

Thranduil didn’t try to apologise again, just tucked himself further into Bard, like he was trying to bury himself in him.

“Thran, what happened?” Bard asked gently, voice soft.

“I had a nightmare.”

“I mean here.” Bard clarified, ghosting a hand down the scar on Thranduil face, although he could see it below his night shirt as well, ravaging a worrying amount of his body.

When Thranduil realised what Bard was talking about he recoiled immediately, bring a hand up to cover his face from Bard.

“I am sorry, I never wanted you to see.” He gasped hiding his face as best he could.

“Hey, no, it’s okay. I am just worried.” Bard reassured, taking Thranduil’s hands and coaxing them away from his face.

“They are so ugly.”

“You’re beautiful.” Bard replied voice firm and sincere, brokering no room for argument whatsoever, and he would be to Bard, no matter what. “But Thran, how did you get them? Why have I never seen them before?”

“I keep up a glamour.” Thranduil explained, Bard had had no idea.

“Does it hurt?”

“It is very old, it does not hurt often, although occasionally it aches. But I can never see out of my left eye.” Thranduil told him and Bard realised how often Thranduil had had him in his blind spot, even at the very beginning, how much he must have trusted Bard right from the start.

“How did it happen Thran?” Bard asked, stroking Thranduil’s smooth cheek comfortingly as Thranduil lean into the caress.

“I was not as successful at fighting a dragon as you were.”

“Oh Thran, I’m so sorry.” Bard said even though it really wasn’t good enough. “Is that what the nightmare was about?”

“That’s how they start, the it’s just everything one after another, in whatever order or amalgamation it likes. My father, my wife, my people, Legolas, you, the children and always the dragon I couldn’t stop, throwing fire at you all because I could not stop it. I can never get to you in time. I see you burn.” Thranduil finished in a voice that was far too small to belong to the Elvenking, it made Bard hold him tighter still.

“Shall I tell you why you never need to worry about that?”

“Please.”

“Because as you like to call me, I am a dragonslayer. I’d never let one hurt you, I’ll keep you safe, I’ll keep us all safe from dragons while you keep us safe from spiders, we can team up for the orcs.” Bard finished and it managed to get a little laugh out of Thranduil’s hoarse throat.

He continued to hold Thranduil in his arms when he heard a gentle knock on their bedroom door.

“Yeah?” Bard called, and three heads popped around the door.

“We heard shouting and we were worried.” Sigrid explained, biting her lip nervously seeing the redness of Thranduil’s eyes and the scar she had never seen before.

Thranduil looked like he was just waiting for one of them to recoil from him, but none of them did.

“Ada just had a nightmare.” Bard told them gently, they would understand, he expected them to leave and get back to sleep, instead Tilda was climbing up onto the bed and burrowing down between them.

“You know what helps me when I have a nightmare ada?” Tilda asked, fiddling with the ends of Thranduil’s hair.

“What’s that little one?”

“Da sings to me.” Tilda smiled and Thranduil seemed to light up at the idea, turning his eyes on Bard pleadingly.

“Please.” Thranduil said, he had never sung for him before.

“Yeah da, it will help.” Sigrid piped in settling down with Bain on the sofa squeezed into the small room.

“Please da.” Bain chimed in, and Bard could never refuse any of them, let alone all of them collectively.

“Alright then.” Bard smiled, he started to sing a lullaby, one he used to sing for the children when they were small or more recently after they had a nightmare, he could do it for Thranduil as well.

By the time Bard had finished he looked around the room to find Sigrid and Bain asleep on the sofa sharing a blanket, and Thranduil asleep with little Tilda snoring between them.

He had completely forgotten about his scars.

 

 

  


	4. Animals

 

“Well, this is odd.” Bard stated as he wandered into their little clearing in the woods to find Thranduil surrounded by woodland creatures.

There was a rabbit in his lap and a bird on his shoulder and all over the branches around him, a deer was curled up next to him and a stag was standing off to the side, and the ground was overrun with animals from mice to foxes.

Most remarkable of all was the fact that none of these creatures were actually trying to eat each other.

“Meleth nin, I missed you.” Thranduil smiled at him and reached out a hand, even though he had seen him not two hours ago, the animals next to him were making room on the ground for Bard as he approached.

“You know, this kind of behaviour could really damage your reputation as the cold and cruel Elvenking.” Bard teased, taking a seat on the grass next to Thranduil and immediately ending up with Thranduil’s silvery head in his lap and his smiling face looking up at him.

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Thranduil answered. “Besides, it never takes much to whip them back into line.” That made Bard laugh.

“Would it be so bad if they knew you were really just a big softie?” Bard continued to tease, running his fingers through Thranduil’s impossibly long and soft hair, the rabbit still fidgeting around on Thranduil’s stomach.

“A total calamity.” Thranduil deadpanned, startling a laugh out of Bard and smiling at the sound. “Bard, by this point I think everyone is well aware that as far as my family goes, I am, as you put it; ‘a big softie’. However, as far as my subjects are concerned, I am still their king, firm and strict as ever.”

“Well, your family and every animal you come across.” Bard point out, petting the cute little creature that was nuzzling his hand, apparently being with Thranduil meant that they had decided he was harmless.

“Not every animal, as technically the ungoliants are animals and they are completely vile, I have no problem cutting them down where and when I see them.” Thranduil stated and really Bard wasn’t sure if they actually were animals in the same sense that the deer wandering into the clearing was.

“They don’t count, they’re all dark and witchcraft-y.” Bard decided eloquently.

“Witchcraft-y? Bard your way with words will never cease to amaze me.” Thranduil teased and Bard swatted him gently with a grin.

“I don’t know how you do it really.” Bard sighed, back to playing with Thranduil’s ever-perfect hair as a small bird flew down and landed gently on Bard’s shoulder.

“Do what? Formulate well worded sentences?” Thranduil cheeked, smirking at Bard who tried to scowl but ended up laughing at Thranduil’s smug face and kissing that smirk right off him.

“I mean how you manage to be so great with us and such a strong leader of your people. It’s a balancing act that I just can’t seem to master.” Bard mused wondering if he would ever get it right, why people thought slaying a dragon had anything to do with an ability to rule was beyond him.

How Thranduil could lie here surround by cute furry creatures with flowers in his hair kissing Bard while still managing to inspire fear in his enemies and unwavering respect from his people was completely beyond Bard.

“We are kings, very different kings at that, there is no one way to do it. I will most likely rule for an excessively long time, I have lived through severe dangers and I will see more, I have to know exactly how to respond. I was born into my role, you earnt it, I rule over a great many more subjects than you, our geography is different, our realms are different, our people are different. So naturally we would never rule in the same way.” Thranduil reasoned and it made far too much sense.

“Fine, I see your point. But still, you’re such an amazing king.” Bard said, he had been completely blown away when he had seen the sheer organisation and synchronisation of Thranduil’s elves, it was incredible, (but not quite as blown away as he had been when he had first set eyes on the Elvenking, he was something else entirely).

“And so are you, I don’t think I could be so casual and friendly with my subjects and still get the unshakable and unwavering obedience I expect and need. _I_ have no idea how you do that. We’re very different kings.” Thranduil pushed. “You’re an amazing king and an amazing da, and a _sensational_ lover.” Thranduil finished with a grin and Bard snorted before sealing their mouths in a searing kiss.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Bard breathed when they finally broke their kiss. “Although there is something I have to ask.”

“Oh?”

“The animals, is that an elf thing, and Elvenking thing, or a Thranduil thing?” Bard enquired, carefully stroking the small bird that had perched nearby.

“Some combination of all three I think.” Thranduil smiled. “All elves have a special connection to animals and nature, all kings to their realm, but I do seem to have a particularly deep bond with the creatures of my forest here.”

“So it’s not something a mere mortal can learn?”

“Oh I don’t know, they all seem pretty fond of you.” Thranduil said, gathering some group of small creatures to his chest and a couple came up to sniff and nudge at Bard.

“I think they’re fond of me as an extension of you.” Bard laughed, petting the little critters that were poking their noses at him curiously.

“Animals are clever, intuitive, they know when to trust someone and when not to, they don’t need my help for that.” Thranduil insisted gently, another two rabbits had joined the original one in sitting on his stomach, he probably couldn’t get up if he wanted to at this point, luckily, he didn’t seem to want to.

“So you’re saying they just like me?” Bard asked, smiling at the thought and tickling the fox that had curled up next to him between the ears.

“Yes, they clearly have excellent taste.” Thranduil proclaimed and Bard grinned down at him.

“Is that so?” Bard teased with a raised eyebrow.

“Indeed it is.” Thranduil confirmed, eyes closed and smiling as he lay with his head in Bard’s lap.

It was the only part of the forest that seemed to have escaped the darkness that was spreading, Bard would bet that it at least had something to do with the fact that Thranduil came here so often.

But right there in that little oasis, surrounded by calm friendly woodland creatures and with his beautiful husband’s head in his lap, Bard could almost forget all the bad that was out there, at least for a moment.

“So does that mean you have excellent taste as well?” Bard teased playfully.

“Obviously.” Thranduil answered with his trademark smirk. “Incidentally you also happen to taste great as well.”

“Oh really?” Bard grinned, toying with one of the flowers in Thranduil’s silky hair.

“Yes. But maybe I should check again, just to be sure.” Thranduil smiled and Bard laughed softly before leaning down and kissing Thranduil slow and deep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a terrible day, but at least this was fluffy, thank you for reading <3


	5. Death

 

There were words Bard learned not to use around Thranduil. Words that had a different meaning for the two of them. Words that were meant as a declaration of love from Bard but that only caused Thranduil pain.

He learnt not to say forever.

Their forevers were not the same.

Forever for Bard was every day he had in this world, it was the amount of his life he could spend with Thranduil. Forever for Thranduil was the amount of time he would be forced to live without Bard.

Thranduil never said anything of course, he refused to even acknowledge what the future held for them, even if Bard thought it would be a good idea to talk about it. But Bard knew him well enough to know when something was bothering him, he also knew when he shouldn’t ask what it was.

But gradually Bard noticed, when he told Thranduil he loved him, there was only warmth and love and happiness in his eyes and in his kisses. But when Bard told him he would love him forever, his smile was melancholy and his kiss was sad.  

Bard had briefly considered leaving, making it easier for Thranduil when he finally did go, whether he wanted to or not, but really, Bard knew it was already far too late for that.

But they were happy, impossibly happy, don’t think for a second they were not, they had a cloud hanging over them, one that they couldn’t avoid.

But people have always managed to dance in the rain.

They loved each other and they loved their family, their ever growing family. They ended up with grandkids, and lots of them. Nothing could have prepared Bard for the sight of Thranduil holding a tiny baby playing with their little fingers and toes, looking down at the little face in awe, like he couldn’t believe something could ever be so small.

The more time passed the more Thranduil delegated, forty years was such a short time for an elf, spending the rest of Bard’s life with him would be like a short holiday for a mortal.

Thranduil showed him the world, or at least the parts of the world he deemed safe. They saw the beautiful shire and the wilting grandeur of Gondor, the breath-taking plains of Rohan, the delicate strength of Lothlórien and the peaceful tranquillity of Rivendell. 

And Bard learnt, he learnt what things he should not say.

Killing time was another one. Such a casual phrase, used all the time among men. Of course what it usually meant was that you were waiting for something else, something more important that was going to happen soon.

Bard used to say they should kill time sometimes; ‘come on, let’s go outside, kill some time before lunch’, ‘what are you up to?’ ‘just killing time darling’, ‘don’t worry, I’ll just kill time until you’re done’.

It was a completely normal day when Bard learnt not to say it. He didn’t even think about it, they were waiting for the new wing of Bard’s newly rebuilt home in Dale (and large house and categorically not a palace). The people building it had said it would open that afternoon and that Bard was not allowed to see it before it opened. But it appeared that they were running a little late with their opening, although they were promising it would be within the hour.

Thranduil was getting restless, not used to being kept waiting and therefore getting bored rather quickly.

“How much longer is this going to take?” Thranduil asked with a sigh, lounging back in one of the tall chairs of the grand hall.

“I’m sure it won’t be much longer.” Bard smiled fondly, for someone who apparently was patient, he was incredibly impatient whenever he was kept waiting. Bard lent over and kissed him fondly before going back to some paper work he was trying to get done (and failing because Thranduil is very distracting).

“I can think of something we can do while we wait...” Thranduil teased and Bard knew exactly what that tone meant.

And sure enough not ten seconds later he had a lapful of smirking Elvenking, Bard raised and amused eyebrow at him.

“Can I help you?” Bard grinned at his husband, nipping playfully at his pouty lower lip.

“Mmm I certainly hope so.” Thranduil replied, eyes twinkling with mischief and hands starting to roam down Bard’s chest.

“As much as I am enjoying this, I refuse to have sex with you in the middle of the grand hall.” Bard told his troublesome husband, even those certain parts of himself were growing very interested (to be fair, it was practically pavlovian at this point).

“We’ve done it before.” Thranduil murmured into his ear, rolling his hips just a little.

“Yes, but that was when I could be at least 99% certain no one was going to come in, right now were are actually waiting for someone to come in.” Bard reminded him, more amused than anything else.

“Then it’s their fault for being late.” Thranduil stated and it made Bard laugh, kissing him on the nose.

“Come on you, off.” Bard smiled, swatting Thranduil’s leg, and he did, albeit reluctantly, get off.

“But Bard I’m so bored.” He whined, the great big drama queen, and Bard rolled his eyes.

Bard got up and took Thranduil’s hand, smiling and tugging Thranduil with him.

“Bard, where are we going?” Thranduil asked and Bard could hear the happy smile in his voice, right behind his children, his greatest achievement in life was most definitely being able to make Thranduil smile like that again, he knew it had been a very long time for the elf.

“We’re going for a walk, kill some time before we’re allowed in.” Bard smiled and continued walking but Thranduil’s hand fell from his own.

When Bard turned around to find his hand again Thranduil’s face was clouded and sad; Bard had no idea what had happened.

“Thran, sweetheart what’s wrong?” Bard asked, trying not to sound too frantic but needing to know what had suddenly upset him so much, cupping his face gently, coaxing him into looking at him.

“Why do you say that?”

“Say what?”  

“That you want to kill time.” Thranduil’s voice was quiet, so quiet.

“Oh, it’s just a saying, finding something to do while we wait for something else; killing time.” Bard explained, still not realising what the problem was.

“But why do you want to kill time?” Thranduil asked again, far too small a voice for the Elvenking, it was worrying Bard more than a little, Bard was still confused and trying to think of a response when Thranduil continued in a voice so quiet he almost missed it. “It’s the only thing we don’t have.”

Then Bard got it.

He knew every minute was precious, of course he did, that hadn’t been what he meant. It was just a stupid turn of phrase.

Bard stopped saying it.

He didn’t talk about forever and he never mentioned killing time.

Because to Thranduil, time was killing him, and waiting for him was a forever that he didn’t want.

Bard didn’t talk about forever.

But just once, when Bard was old and frail and fighting for his last breaths, Thranduil did.

“I will love you forever.” Thranduil breathed as Bard lay in his arms, and finally, Bard broke.

And so did Thranduil. 

 


	6. Silly AU/Crack fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thran mistakes bard for a stripper he ordered 
> 
> ...woops, the rating just went up...

 

Thranduil tapped his foot impatiently, why he let Tauriel get away with this kind of thing was beyond him.

This kind of thing being telling Thranduil he needed to ‘loosen up’ and hiring him a stripper.

Thranduil was just going to open the door, tell whatever twenty-something with too much bulky muscle that the stripper agency had sent that there had been a mistake, pay him, and ask him to please leave.

Thranduil could see what he would look like already, early twenties, like he lives in the gym, overly styled hair, cliché clothes and music so cheesy it would make Thranduil want to cry.

Thranduil tended to want his men a little more understated (he was overstated enough for the both of them).

So you can imagine his surprise when the doorbell went and on the other side of it was not the steroid-buffed, typical stripper look; but an absolutely delicious man about his own age with messy hair and _amazing_ forearms.

He actually looked sort of familiar, but maybe that was just because he bared a remarkable resemblance to a lot of Thranduil’s fantasies. He was ticking every single one of his boxes.

Okay, maybe Thranduil wasn’t going to send him away immediately, after all, he had come here to do a job…

Thranduil then realised he was most definitely staring at this beautiful stranger – _stripper_ – and that he should probably say something.

“Oh my god you’re perfect.” Was what fell out of his mouth and for goodness sake he was usually so much more sophisticated and eloquent than this.

Then the man at the door _blushed_ , since when do strippers blush?!

Then he was biting at his lip and most definitely checking Thranduil out and Thranduil found his usual confidence in this kind of situation.

“Would you like to come in?” Thranduil smirked, raking his eyes up the handsome stranger at his door.

Of course the stripper was being paid to come in, but he got this unfairly sexy little cheeky smile at the invitation that was making Thranduil believe this was going to be far more fun than any usual stripper visit.

“Actually, I would love to.” The man answered, winking at Thranduil as he stepped aside to let him into the apartment.

“Drink?” Thranduil asked, knowing it probably wasn’t usual stripper-customer protocol but then he didn’t really want this to be a usual stripper-customer exchange.

(Sure he wanted the stripper’s clothes to end up off, but preferably his own as well).

“Please.” He replied leaning on Thranduil’s kitchen counter as he poured a couple of glasses of wine.

“So what do they call you?” Thranduil enquired, knowing full well he was unlikely to get his real name.

“Bard, and you?” The man – Bard apparently – told him.

Thranduil very much enjoyed the way Bard’s hand dragged along his own as he passed over the glass.

“Thranduil.”

“Thranduil.” Bard rolled it off his tongue, somehow Thranduil preferred it when he said it. “This. Is exceptionally good wine.” Bard commented after taking a sip, Thranduil watching his throat as he swallowed.

“As if I own any that isn’t.” Thranduil smirked back, loving the way Bard seemed unable to look away from his lip (so naturally he licked them).

“I bet.” Bard answered, warm hazel green eyes twinkling with something Thranduil rather hoped was mischief.

And if the way Bard had stepped into his space was any indication then it most certainly was mischief.

“I’m not normally this forward, but you are just…something else entirely.” Bard said and it was most definitely a line because he was a stripper of course he was usually this forward, but Thranduil was more than happy to play along, after all, he already knew he wanted this to end with two sets of clothes on the floor.

Thranduil smirked gently as Bard spoke, toying with the hem of the stripper’s shirt and brushing his fingers against the firm stomach beneath.

“Mmmm.” Thranduil agreed, he was close enough to see the way Bard’s eyes were dilating, barely an inch between them. “Care to lose this?” Thranduil asked, it was his job after all, even if he usually did it to bad music and with a bit more space between.

“I hope yours is going somewhere too.” Bard grinned as he tantalisingly slowly dragged his shirt over his head and off onto the floor and _dear god_ that chest was utterly unfair Thranduil wanted to lick chocolate off it.

“If you want it off, come and take it off.” Thranduil smirked, backing away slowly into the living room, Bard following with a downright hungry look in his eyes.

Thranduil waited for Bard to get to him, and when he did, Bard wasted no time in dragging Thranduil in for a kiss, lacing his hand through his long blonde hair and sliding their lips together, his tongue pressing at the seam of Thranduil’s lips already.

Thranduil answered with a moan, and Bard hummed happily as Thranduil let his mouth fall open for his exploration, and when Bard nipped on his bottom lip Thranduil couldn’t help his whimper. A whimper that Bard clearly liked very much as he started battling with Thranduil’s shirt.

Eventually Thranduil took pity and broke the kiss to discard his shirt before smirking and moving back to sit down in his large armchair and staring unabashedly at Bard, who was raising a questioning eyebrow at him.

“So, strip.” Thranduil smirked, taking another sip of his wine and openly staring at Bard, which seemed to startle a laugh out of him, Thranduil smirked back.

“With pleasure, so long as you know that the moment I’m done I’m coming over there and ridding you of every last thing you have on.” Bard promised and that was most certainly something Thranduil wanted to happen.

“I look forward to it.” Thranduil replied and then with one final grin Bard began to really strip.

It still wasn’t what Thranduil expected, there was something so unrefined about how Bard did it, or at least, not what you would expect from a professional, it made Thranduil enjoy it even more.

He ran his hands over his toned abs, snaking their way down to his trousers, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding them down his long legs (although not as long as his own, but that was hardly surprising).

Thranduil then burst out with laughter because Bard had forgotten to take off his boots and almost fell over before rather inelegantly getting them and his jeans the rest of the way off.

“Yeah yeah like you could do any better.” Bard grumbled and Thranduil continued to laugh.

“I just expected better.” Thranduil teased, after all he did supposedly do this for a living.

“I would challenge you to show me but I’m rather invested in getting those clothes off with my own two hands.” Bard grinned, hands either side of Thranduil’s head on the high-backed chair, leaning down, Thranduil took the unspoken invitation and stole another deep kiss from Bard, one that quickly turned rather exceptionally filthy.

Thranduil loved it.

Especially the way Bard all but growled when he moved his mouth onto Thranduil’s chest, sucking and biting his way down Thranduil’s chest and across his nipples, and that was as sure a way to get him desperate as pulling on his hair or biting on his lip.

“Bedroom?” Thranduil gasped, teasing at the waistband of Bard’s boxer briefs. 

“Bedroom.” Bard agreed with a murmur.

Bard gave Thranduil just enough room before pushing him in the direction of the bedroom, mouth barely leaving Thranduil’s neck the whole way there.

“I don’t normally do this.” Bard told him as Thranduil let out a whimper in response to Bard nipping at his throat.

“I should certainly hope not.” Thranduil laughed, he was a stripper not a hooker after all. “Neither do I.” Thranduil said, honestly it had been far too long since he had been with someone.

He could feel Bard’s smile against his neck and then he was shoved back onto the bed in just the way he loved to be manhandled, hitting it with a little bounce and giving Bard his very best _come hither_ look as he backed his way up the bed.

Bard crawled his way up the bed and Thranduil let his long legs fall open, Bard slowly dragging Thranduil’s trousers off his legs and throwing them aside before settling between them.

“How do you like it?” Bard asked as he went back to sucking on Thranduil’s neck, he clearly had a neck thing, which perfectly complimented Thranduil’s love of someone’s mouth _on_ his neck.

“However you want to give it.” Thranduil purred back and really he couldn’t pick right now so he was more than happy to let Bard chose.

“How about this?” Bard rumbled and Thranduil let out a little moan as Bard’s hand started rubbing him through the thin fabric of his underwear.

“Promising.” Thranduil whimpered as Bard gave him a squeeze, far too light for any real relief but still the best thing Thranduil had ever felt.

“And this?” Bard murmured, slipping his hand inside Thranduil’s underwear and the glorious feeling of skin on skin was the best thing Thranduil had felt in far too long.

“Even better.” Thranduil gasped, bucking up into Bard’s hand and making the other man rumble out a little laugh against his neck.

“And this?” Bard whispered into his ear as his fingers moved back to toy at Thranduil’s entrance.

“Oh god please.” Thranduil begged a little desperately and he would be embarrassed about it were it not for the way that Bard growled and tore off Thranduil’s underwear.

“Do you have anything?” Bard asked as he moved down and bit at the inside of Thranduil’s thigh.

“Bedside drawer.” Thranduil answered.

Bard leant over to the table, grabbing the lube and a condom and returning to mouthing at Thranduil’s thigh as he started to circle a slick finger around Thranduil’s entrance. Just as Thranduil was perfectly frustrated and about to get impatient Bard finally slid a finger into him and Thranduil let out a drawn out moan.

After that it was an onslaught of sensation as Bard worked him over, finding his sweet spot early on and leaving Thranduil a writhing mess on his fingers as they stretched him and played with that little bundle of nerves enough to drive him mad but not enough to send him over the edge.

“Bard, please.” Thranduil whined and he could feel Bard’s grin against his thigh and with one last nip to his thigh and brush to his prostate Bard slipped his fingers free.

He wasted no time in kicking off his own boxers, getting the condom on and slicking his really rather impressive length (which now Thranduil finally saw it he would really like the chance to taste at some point).

Bard lined himself up and Thranduil could feel the blunt head of his cock nudging at his stretched hole and just as he was about to beg some more, Bard pushed in in one smooth thrust until his hips came flush with Thranduil’s ass.

“Okay?” Bard asked, breathing already a little laboured and god Thranduil was way more than okay, loving the slight burn and the beautiful sensation of being so perfectly filled.

“I won’t be if you don’t start moving.” Thranduil smirked and Bard grinned in response before snapping his hips and making them both moan.

Bard set up a punishing pace, only needing a few tries before he started unerringly hitting Thranduil’s sweet spot on each thrust, tucking a hand behind Thranduil’s knees and hooking them over his shoulders and that really was one of Thranduil’s favourite positions.

But just as whimpers were starting to fall unbidden and freely from Thranduil’s lips and he was getting close, Bard changed his strokes to slow and deep, grinning at Thranduil’s frustrated moan.

“Bard.” Thranduil whined, trying to urge him faster, but Bard was having none of it.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He murmured into Thranduil’s ear, giving it a little bite.

“We can always go again.” Thranduil smirked, still trying to get Bard to speed up again and failing again as well. “Unless you don’t have the stamina of course.” Thranduil teased, hoping it would coax bard into fucking him into the mattress again, instead he just grinned that cheeky grin of his and kissed him.

“Please.” Thranduil tried, pouting as best he could.

“You’re pretty when you beg.” Bard cheeked and Thranduil decided to take matters into his own hands, slipped his legs from Bard’s shoulders and flipped them over before Bard even realised what was happening.

Thranduil smirked from where he now sat atop him, Bard raised an eyebrow and landed a slap to Thranduil’s rear, startling yet another moan from his lips (Bard’s eyebrow went even higher and he grinned).

Thranduil started rolling his hips languidly before finding the perfect angle and speeding up, riding Bard as hard as he could, enjoying the way Bard looked like he was losing his mind beneath him, even as he snapped his hips to meet Thranduil on every thrust. Thranduil braced his hands on Bard’s firm chest and Bard’s own hands were gripping Thranduil’s hips tight enough to leave marks in the morning, something which Thranduil was very, _very_ , happy about.

It didn’t take long before Thranduil could tell that Bard was getting close, and he wasn’t the only one. But Bard had a look of determination in his eye and he was leaning up to take one of Thranduil’s nipples into his mouth and pushing Thranduil closer to the edge even faster.

The rolls of his hips and Bard’s thrusts were becoming erratic, both of them panting hard and moaning openly, and with a bite to his nipple and another slap to his rear Thranduil cried out Bard’s name and came untouched between them, painting their chests with his release.

Bard groaned as Thranduil tightened around him, at first involuntarily as his orgasm overtook him, then very deliberately as he dragged Bard over the edge with him, feeling as he came inside him.

Thranduil collapsed on top of Bard, and given the way Bard’s arms immediately came up around him, he didn’t mind one bit.

“Good?” Bard panted in question, running his hand through Thranduil’s sweaty hair, Thranduil practically purred and nuzzled into him further, feeling particularly cuddly after the amazing sex they just had.

“Do you really need to ask?” Thranduil replied, dipping in for a few lazy kisses.

“No.” Bard grinned and they shared a little laugh.

There was no way Thranduil was letting this be a one-time thing.

But their post-coital bliss was very rudely interrupted by knock at the door, at first they had both been perfectly happy to ignore it, but then the person had knocked again, and again.

“Ugh, I’m going to tell them to piss off.” Thranduil griped, reluctantly dragging himself out of bed. “Don’t move.” He then ordered, planning to come straight back and curl up in Bard’s arms again.

“I don’t plan on going anywhere.” Bard grinned. “And be nice.” He added and Thranduil rolled his eyes, pulling on his robe and padding to the door to where the visitor had just knocked for the fifth time (since when were people so persistent!?)

So Thranduil opened the door, and on the other side of it was an overly-buff, overly-styled guy in his early twenties with overly-revealing clothes. But still the implication didn’t quite sink in.

And Thranduil must’ve looked as pissed off as he was about being interrupted because the guy at the door practically squeaked when he spoke.

“Sorry! It’s just she said I should keep knocking until you opened the door.”

“Who did?”

“Um, Tauriel I think her name was.”

“What?”

“The woman who hired me.”

“Wait, who are you?”

“Um, I’m Chad.” He said, passing over a business card. A business card that read: _Sarah’s Sizzling Strippers_ on it. “Your stripper…” Chad trailed off awkwardly.

Thranduil looked down at the card, up to Chad, back towards the bedroom where a sated Bard was currently lounging, back to Chad, and back down to the card.

“But if you’re the stripper…” Thranduil started, brain working it out just as Bard poked his head around the door, sheet wrapped around him.

“Who is it?” Bard asked, probably wondering why Thranduil hadn’t sent them off immediately.

“A stripper who is clearly not needed.” Chad answered, apparently finding himself and looking between Thranduil and Bard, working out what he had walked in on.

“You hired a stripper?” Bard asked, sounding confused.

“But if you’re the stripper…” Thranduil mumbled again before looking back at Bard, and Bard must’ve heard because after a few seconds he penny seemed to drop.

“Wait! You did not think I was a stripper did you?!” Bard seemed caught between disbelief, laughter and indignation.

“Well, given the situation I might’ve made assumptions.”  Thranduil told him sheepishly, something he very rarely was.

“Oh my god.” Bard laughed, but luckily he was laughing which successfully relieved the tension and Thranduil’s worry, even starting to titter a little himself.

“Well who are you then!” Thranduil asked, ignoring a very awkward Chad on the doorstep.

“I’m just Bard Bowman, I live upstairs, have three kids.” Bard laughed and now with Chad at the door it did seem pretty funny that he had mistaken Bard in all his casualness for a stripper.

“Then why were you knocking on my door?” Thranduil enquired, still confused by how on earth this had happened.

“I was told some of my mail had been delivered to 231 instead of 331, so I came to get it.” Bard explained and now that he said it, Thranduil did have some of someone else’s’ mail on the table.

“So how come you didn’t say that!?” Thranduil asked, wondering how the hell they had ended up having sex if all Bard came for was his mail.

“Because you were giving me this look and no one has looked at me like that for years and you are like, the most beautiful man on the planet, of course I came in.” Bard laughed and Thranduil couldn’t help but blush at his so very sincere and casual compliment.

Bard must’ve seen the blush, because he was smiling and ducking in for a gentle kiss, leaving Thranduil with an uncharacteristically shy smile dancing on his lips. They were still trading small kisses when Chad coughed awkwardly and spoke.

“Okay, I’m gunna go…”

“Good plan.” Bard said, pushing the door closed without looking to see if it had been vacated and returning to Thranduil’s smiling lips.

“Sorry for thinking you were a stripper.”

“I am both flattered and offended, besides, I’m sure you can make it up to me.”

“I’m sure I can.” Thranduil agreed, allowing himself to be tugged back to the bedroom. “But how would you like me to make it up to you?” Thranduil teased, stroking his hands down Bard’s chest slowly.

“Go on a date with me.” Bard grinned.

“I look forward to it.” Thranduil smiled in response as Bard pulled him up to kiss him.

“As do I.” He agreed.

“I’ll never let you live it down though.” Bard teased, smiling against Thranduil’s skin again.

“I don’t doubt it.” Thranduil laughed.

In fact it became Bard’s favourite story, one Tauriel delighted in retelling at their wedding two years later.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank the wonderful Em for this wondrous idea :')


	7. Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The theme was 'proposal' so I went ahead and did a 'The Proposal' Au because I love that film
> 
> I had a little fun with this one ngl

 

Bard had no idea how he had ended up in this _utterly ridiculous_ situation. He was pretty sure this kind of thing didn’t happen to other people. Other people got blissful normality, they didn’t get fake engaged to their asshole boss so that said asshole boss doesn’t get deported, they didn’t take them to meet the family and lie to everyone he knew.

And they most certainly didn’t then find themselves accidentally in love with the manipulative asshole boss that they were breaking the law for.

To be honest, prison might be preferable at this point.

He had better get one _hell_ of a promotion for this.

 

His family were definitely suspicious. Well, his dad was. His ma was of course being supportive, his children were completely smitten with Thranduil, and grandma was too busy being grandma to notice anything that might be off.

Oddly enough it was the children that were making it harder for Bard, he had not been prepared for Thranduil to be so good with them, taking Tilda around on his shoulders and chatting away with Sigrid, helping Bain with his work.

It was throwing him off.

Because if Thranduil could be this wonderful with children – _Bard’s_ children – then there was much more too him than just asshole boss.

And Bard was finding it quite difficult to ignore. Because Thranduil was _funny_ , he was funny and clever and sexy and excessively overworked. And he was most definitely an asshole, but somewhere along the way he had stopped being an asshole to Bard, and he had never been one to his family.

Thranduil was just wound so tight, always so worried about looking flawless and keeping on top of his insane workload and making sure the company was a success and knowing the easiest way not to be challenged at work was simply to be feared.

High maintenance. That was definitely the word for Thranduil.

But right here and right now, right out in the middle of the countryside in Bard’s family estate, he seemed so calm and soft. He hadn’t been at first, but now after the couple of weeks he had been here, he seemed almost docile.

And Bard had fallen in love before he realised he even liked Thranduil at all.

Problem was that Thranduil was only pretending to be in love with him so that he didn’t get deported.

So Bard was standing in a church in his best suit, watching the man he was in love with walk down the aisle towards him about to marry him to get him a visa knowing that two years down the line he was bound to be even more in love than he already is and would have to endure a divorce.

How was this his life?

Or at least, Thranduil had been walking down the aisle towards him, now he had kind of…stopped.

No, not kind of stopped, completely stopped.

He was looking at Bard with an expression he couldn’t read, then at the children and his grandma and ma and da and then back to Bard.

“Thran?” Bard asked, but Thranduil was already turning and bolting from the building.

What the hell just happened?

Bard was ignoring everyone and the questions they were throwing at him (as if he had any idea how to answer them anyway) in favour of running after Thranduil.

But Thranduil’s legs were infuriatingly long and he could run _really fast_. And it also wasn’t helping that every bloody person in town wanted to congratulate him or ask him why he wasn’t in the church or where his new husband was, and to top it off, he was in such a hurry that he actually managed to run in the wrong direction _in his own home town._

By the time Bard got back to the house Thranduil was nowhere to be found, his clothes were still there but his phone and laptop were gone which meant Thranduil was gone which meant Bard had missed him.

Fine. He’d run all the way to the bloody airport if he had to.

He turned to grab his wallet and noticed a letter set down on the bed.

(Just how fast had Thranduil managed to run?!)

Bard was written in Thranduil’s elegantly sloping script, as if there was anyone else it could be for.

_Bard,_

_I am so sorry for everything I put you through, you did not deserve it. I made you lie to your friends and family and even your children. It was selfish of me to even ask. Rest assured you will still have that promotion waiting for you, you held up your end of the bargain after all, but I simply could not do it, it wouldn’t have been fair to you. For goodness sake you could fall in love with someone and I would have managed to ruin that for you too._

_But I am and always have been selfish, and in the end I really couldn’t do it to myself either. Being married to you and knowing you did not love me would have killed me._

_Besides, you are far too good and far too kind to ever end up married to someone as cold as I. You deserve so much better than me._

_Thank you for everything, I had forgotten what it was like to have a family._

_Yours,_

_Thranduil_

And what the hell was Bard supposed to do with that.

Actually he knew exactly what he should do, and that was run like hell to the airport and stop him from leaving.

And that was exactly what he did, ran like the love of his life was about to slip through his fingers, which he was.

But apparently today just wasn’t Bard’s day because when he got there the plane was literally just lifting off the tarmac.

Bard ran up to the ticket desk, no doubt looking half mad.

“When is the next plane back to London?” Bard demanded, startling the woman behind the desk without meaning to.

“I’m sorry sir there isn’t one until tomorrow.” She squeaked, damn tiny airports.

“Fine, I’ll catch the train.” Bard decided, this was less than ideal, the train would take nine or ten hours, but that was still sooner than tomorrow. God what if Thranduil had already been taken out the country?! “What way is the station?” He asked the woman at the desk.

“It’s that way but sir, I’m _really_ sorry, but there is a strike on today with the trains.” She explained.

“Are you kidding me!” Bard seethed (at the universe not the poor woman behind the desk.

“Would you like that plane ticket sir? It leaves early in the morning.” She tried to comfort and Bard would appreciate it if he wasn’t terrified he was going to be too late.

“Please.” Bard confirmed and the woman printed him the ticket and then there was nothing Bard could do but wait.

It was the longest fifteen hours in Bard’s life.

About halfway through his family found him and sat down with him, they all had a lot of questions but they all managed to keep them in, at least for now. It was good, Bard really wasn’t in the mood to explain this clusterfuck of a situation.

Well, everyone held their questions in instead of Tilda.

“Da, are you going to get mister Thranduil back.”

“I’m certainly going to try.”

“Good.”

And that was that.

Bard got on the plane in the morning and impatiently waited for it to take off then land again.

When it finally did land Bard was off line a bullet, charging through Gatwick and down onto the underground, headed to Thranduil’s house in Chelsea.

Bard hammered on the door but there was clearly no one home, Legolas had moved out a couple of years ago and in with his boyfriend (and they legitimately tied the knot a few months previously) which meant that if there was no answer Thranduil wasn’t home.

Bard raced back to the underground hoping beyond anything that Thranduil was at the office tying up any loose ends before he had to leave and that he wasn’t already actually gone.

The wait in the elevator was excruciating, he’d never realised how slow it ran before.

He was sweaty and out of breath and still in his wedding tux but it was all worth it because the doors of the lift opened and Bard could see Thranduil’s unmistakable hair (and ass) sorting through boxes.

“Thran!” Bard shouted across the office, successfully making the whole office stare (to be honest that was an inevitability).

Thranduil jumped a little and turned around, looking confused and like he didn’t quite believe his eyes.

“You left.” Bard said as he started walking across the large office floor to where Thranduil was.

“I wrote you a note, didn’t you…?” Thranduil asked, sounds a few thousand times more timid than Bard had ever heard before, the people in the office looked visibly shocked by it.

“I got it, and I have one serious problem with it.” Bard answered, pulling the letter out from his pocket.

“Oh, which bit?”

“This bit: ‘ _For goodness sake you could fall in love with someone and I would have managed to ruin that for you too’_.” Bard read out, coming to a stop just a meter from Thranduil.

“What’s the problem with that?” Thranduil asked and he looked like he was breaking a little bit inside, Bard had never seen him look so small.

“It’s wrong.” Bard stated.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not going to fall in love with anyone.”

“You can’t know that.”

“No, I really _really_ do.”

“You can’t.” Thranduil insisted, going back to his box, but Bard caught his chin gently and coaxed him into looking at him again

“I do because I am completely, utterly and one hundred percent in love with someone already.”

“I don’t understand.”

“And from this letter, I’m inclined to think he feels the same.”

“But I wrote that letter.”

“You know I always thought you were smarter than this.” Bard smiled, waiting for Thranduil to realise what he meant.

“You don’t mean– ” Thranduil started, but he broke off with a little gasp as Bard knelt down on one knee in front of him.

“Thranduil Oropherion, will you do me the honour of marrying me, not because you need a visa, but because I am _desperately_ in love with you.” Bard said, holding his breath as he waited for Thranduil’s answer, praying he hadn’t somehow got this entire situation wrong.

“I love you too.” Thranduil whispered before a smile broke out across his face like he just couldn’t control it. “Yes I’ll marry you.”

Bard grinned and stood up, sweeping Thranduil into a passionate kiss and making the entire office whoop, cheer and wolf whistle even though they supposedly didn’t even like Thranduil. Bard had a feeling that would change if they could see the other side to him.

“Please don’t leave me at the alter again though, not sure I could handle that twice.” Bard told him, running his hands through that impossible hair.

“I promise.” Thranduil responded, diving in for another kiss. “I wouldn’t be able to walk away again anyway, took everything I had to do it the first time. You’re stuck with me for good now.” Thranduil finished breathlessly.

“Good.” Bard all but growled before sealing their mouths together again, never planning on letting Thranduil go.  

Bard had no idea how long they kissed for and frankly he didn’t care.

“You’re still an asshole.” Bard stated with a smile that he simply couldn’t have stopped if he’d tried.

“I’m you’re asshole though.” Thranduil grinned, nipping playfully at Bard’s lip.

“That you are.”

Luckily Bard was from a long line of hopeless romantics, so when they explained the whole situation, the epic love story managed to overshadow the insane lying that had gone on.

They didn’t get out entirely scot-free though, it took some serious work to convince immigration that although they were originally getting fake married and technically breaking the law they had in the process actually fallen in love and were now getting real married.

And they stayed real-married for the rest of their lives.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might turn this into a long fic at some vague point in the future because I rly love that film


	8. Wardrobe Menace - Bonus Day in memory of Christopher Lee

 

Bard could not believe it. He had managed to lock himself in Thranduil’s wardrobe _again_.

It was the third time this week.

Okay so maybe a case could be made for the fact that Bard should probably have learnt to hold the door open with something by now, but _still_! It wasn’t his fault that it locked automatically when it closed.

Nor was it his fault that it could only be unlocked from the outside or with Thranduil’s special key.

Thranduil claimed he did it so that no one would ever be able to steal his clothes, Bard thought it was possibly overkill.

Bard was also fairly sure Thranduil would have made him his own key by now if he didn’t find it so bloody funny every time he found Bard locked in the wardrobe.

He kept having to wait for him to stop laughing before he unlocked the door.

The one, _tiny_ , silver lining was that not only was the wardrobe essentially a room in its own right (at least by Bard’s size standards), but that as well as clothes and looking glasses, there was also a long chaise-longue that was obscenely comfortable (as if Thranduil would allow anything less) which Bard had become quite accustomed to taking a nap on by now.

Something which Bard was resigning himself to now, after banging on the door had done precisely nothing. Damn Thranduil’s chambers for being so deep in the halls, no one ever heard him unless they were in his rooms, and the only one other than Bard that was ever in his chambers was Thranduil himself.

So once again he just had to wait.

Because Thranduil could be anything from ten minutes to ten hours. Great.

Bard made the decision to just bed down on the chaise-longue once again (really at this point he might as well just move in to the bloody wardrobe he spent so much time in there).

Bard had no idea how long he had been asleep before he was jerked out of sleep by the melodic but no less hysterical laughter of his beautiful husband.

“Shuddup.” Bard grumbled sleepily, he would glare if he could be bothered to open his eyes.

“Oh don’t be grumpy.” Thranduil continued to laugh, gliding over and kneeling down to press kisses to Bard’s sleeping face. “You know it really isn’t that hard to prop open the door with something.” He reasoned infuriatingly reasonably.

“I forgot.” Bard muttered, even though that much was pretty clear from his current situation.

“Evidently. What were you even doing in here?” Thranduil asked bemused, which he really shouldn’t have been.

“You moved all my clothes in here, remember.” Bard reminded, turning over on the chaise-longue and pressing a kiss to Thranduil’s soft lips.

“Well I was hardly going to leave them strewn randomly about the room, was I?” Thranduil replied, and really he was exaggerating.

“They weren’t strewn about the room, they were in a relatively neat pile in the corner.” Bard pointed out, they had been in their spot. “Although I am very touched you made room in your overflowing wardrobe for my things.” Bard added, and he really was, and the wardrobe really was somehow overflowing as well.

Not that it was particularly surprising, he’d had entire sets of chambers built for all the children for when they came visiting.

“You’ve wormed your way into every part of my life, including my wardrobe. In fact I’m starting to wonder if you’re actually trying to move into it.” Thranduil laughed again and Bard swatted him.

“You need to get a new locking system. Or at least get me a key.” Bard stated, as wonderful as the elaborate elven locking systems were, it was a) overkill for a wardrobe and b) constantly stranding him in there.

(Although he really should have learnt by now).

“I don’t know, I find it pretty amusing.” He grinned, kissing Bard cheekily, Bard nipped his lower lip in return.

“Thran, this wardrobe is a menace.” Bard told him, deadly serious, Thranduil just smirked.

“But you managed not to lock yourself in yesterday.” He pointed out, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Yes but we both know that for every time I remember, I forget at least twice.” Bard griped, although he didn’t really mind, or he did at the time, but it was hard to mind with Thranduil so close and smiling and kissing him intermittently.

“Yes, you are very forgetful.” Thranduil murmured, becoming more interested in rubbing his cheek against Bard’s scruff than anything else.

“So? Will you change the locking system? Or get me a key?” Bard smiled, running his fingers through Thranduil’s long silken hair.

“Hmmmm, no I think not.” Thranduil grinned, chuckling when Bard swatted him again. “You’ll just have to start to remember to prop open the door. I manage it.”

“You have a key, it doesn’t matter if you forget.” Bard pointed out, he knew that really Thranduil would get him a key and was just teasing, but still, he enjoyed their lazy banter, the complete intimacy they had with Thranduil crowded into Bard’s space, just enjoying each other.

“Very true.” Thranduil agreed, sounding sleepy, probably at the result of Bard stroking his hair while he rested his head on Bard’s chest.

The big cat was all but purring really.

“Sleepy?” Bard asked, even though the answer was fairly clear.

“Mmmm.” Thranduil confirmed, nuzzling into Bard’s chest, Bard supposed it had been a long day of dealing with the dwarves (before he had locked himself in the wardrobe that was).

“Then how about we move the twenty meters to your bed instead of staying in the wardrobe.” Bard suggested with a smile, nudging at Thranduil to get him to stand.

“Fine.” He sighed as if Bard was asking him to move a million miles instead of a few steps into the bedroom.

“Key.” Bard prompted as they got to the door.

“Hu?”

“The key Thran, for the door.” Bard laughed, Thranduil really was out of it when he was at all sleepy.

“Oh, right.” Thranduil all but yawned (which he never actually did, but he came pretty close sometimes, like now), and he started fishing around in his deep pockets.

After about ten seconds Bard realised that something was wrong.

Especially when Thranduil fixed him with a guilty look.

“Love, where is the key?” Bard asked.

“I’m fairly sure it’s in the door…on the outside.” Thranduil admitted, biting his lip a little.

Really there was nothing else Bard could do but laugh, because it really was pretty funny.

A Dragonslayer and the deadly Elvenking, bested by a bloody wardrobe.

They were never going to live this down when they were found.

“Thran.”

“Yes?”

“This wardrobe is a menace.”

“You know for the first time, I’m inclined to agree with you.”

Luckily there was room for them both on the chaise-longue.  

Hopefully it wouldn’t be too long until one of the children came looking for them.

   

 


End file.
